Happy Christmas, My!
by Tarma Hartley
Summary: Mycroft has returned home after a very tiring day and is looking forward to his vacation and time with his lover, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. Little does he know that a call on his cell phone is about to lead to a wonderful, but completely unexpected, surprise. Mystrade


_A/N: Gregory Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes do not belong to me; they belong to the late Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Rupert Graves and Mark Gatiss, respectively. The plot, however, is mine. Inspired by britgov's wonderful photomanipulation, _Happy Birthday, Mycroft,_ on dA.  
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_Mycroft has returned home from a very tiring day and is looking forward to his vacation. He's about to have quite an unexpected, but very welcome, surprise...  
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My 50th fic! Yay! *throws confetti* Hope you enjoy! :)

**Thanks** to my readers and all those who have favourited, reviewed, story alerted, favourite author or author alerted me. I appreciate it more than I can say! :)

**Thank you** to my beta reader, Pearls1990, for amazing beta reading! Much appreciated! :)

**Thank you** also to britgov, on dA, whose wonderful photomanipulation,_ Happy Birthday, Mycroft_, provided inspiration for this oneshot. Thanks! :)

**Special thanks** to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all his help, support, advice, nagging (when necessary), and encouragement! I appreciate it more than I can say! Love you!

Comments are appreciated and welcome! :) I'll probably change some things at some point; always room for improvement! :)

Rated T, Mystrade, male/male relationships

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_January 1st  
Mycroft holmes and Gregory Lestrade Residence  
London  
6:02 P.M._

Mycroft rubbed his tired eyes as he slowly made his way up the stairs, tossing his suit jacket wearily over his shoulder.

It had been a very long, tiring, day and he was markedly glad to see the end of it. Now, he could retire to the comfort and relaxation that his home afforded, pour himself a snifter of brandy and enjoy the evening without, hopefully, being bombarded by the outside world.

He'd turned his cell phone off earlier in the day, and he reflected on how uncharacteristic that was for him. Mycroft could always be reached in case of a dire governmental emergency; it was what he was known, and infamous in some circles, for.

In fact, he had made it a point to let the PM, and the Home Secretary as well, know that he wouldn't be available for the next three weeks. He wanted to enjoy his vacation without being summoned every five minutes for one kind of minor upheaval or another.

The two men had readily agreed since he was adamant on this point. He did stipulate if it were a crisis of national importance, he would make himself available but only then; everything else, they could deal with on their own.

He opened the door wearily, crossing the threshold quickly and closing the door behind him, tossing his briefcase and suit jacket on to the couch in the living room. With a groan, he flopped down on the love seat and closed his tired eyes.

_It's good to be home,_ he thought to himself, letting himself relax, feeling the numerous tensions of the day begin to subside. He leaned back, nestling down into the comfortable softness. He was going to enjoy this vacation.

Mycroft belatedly wondered where Lestrade was but remembered that he had texted him earlier that day to let him know that he would be a bit late in coming home this evening. He had _'something important_' come up and he couldn't talk long since he had to dash but would talk to him later.

Thinking of Scotland Yard Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade always brought a smile to Mycroft's face and a light feeling to his heart; not only was the handsome Yarder a very close friend, he was also his lover.

Mycroft smiled as he thought of the fun they would have on this vacation since Gregory had been nagging him to take one for the past two years. '_My_,'-Gregory's pet name for him-said as he recalled their conversation of a month ago, '_you really need to take a vacation. I don't want you working yourself into an early grave! If something_ really _important were to pop up, then you deal with it; otherwise, let them handle it._'

The good Detective Inspector did, he reflected, have a good point and one that he was hard pressed to argue logically against although he _did_ try; he wouldn't have been himself if he hadn't. Gregory had cut him off early, reiterating that he wanted to have him in his life for a very long time.

_That_, he considered reflected wryly as he snuggled deeper into the love seat, _was the deciding factor_ and had promptly told the PM that he was taking a three week holiday.

It was, also, a rather effective tactic since it certainly worked. He knew that Gregory was concerned about him and worried about his health; indeed, Mycroft had often remonstrated with him over the same subject a year earlier and for the exact same reason and had seen his advice taken to heart.

_A little_ too _much,_ he thought and chuckled tiredly, _since he used the same line of reasoning on_ you.

He sat there in comfortable silence for some time before he was startled by the ring tone of his cell phone; he'd left it in the pocket of his jacket which was, conveniently, within arm's reach if he stretched a little. With a groan of annoyance, he grabbed his jacket with impatience.

_Oh, bloody hell! _he thought rather grumpily as he fished about in his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. _I wonder what's come up?_ He stared at it as if it were a poisonous viper. _They_ can't _have had something go wrong in the past_- he paused a moment, looking at the clock on the wall; it was six-forty five in the evening- _half hour that needs my attention!_

He made a sour face as he slid his thumb over the home screen on his phone with a little more force than was necessary and putting the phone to his ear.

"Yes?" he said, his voice tinged with annoyance, wondering who it was that was calling him. How long did he have to be polite before he could hang up on whoever it was that was calling?

"_My?"_ It was Gregory's voice and Mycroft instantly lost his irritation, his heart beginning to quicken.

_Odd... _He licked his suddenly dry lips._ I wonder what Gregory is calling about? I thought he was at work!_

"Gregory." Mycroft kept his tone light. "It's good to hear from you! How are things at Scotland Yard?"

"_Pretty good. Listen... come up to the bedroom. I have a surprise for you."_

Mycroft frowned.

"What?" He wasn't sure that he had heard him correctly.

"_Come up to the bedroom,"_ he repeated. "_I have a surprise for you."_ He could almost see Lestrade's impishly grinning face in his mind's eye.

"But... I thought-" He was having trouble getting the words out.

"_Just come, My."_ He was insistent. "_You'll like it, I'm sure,"_ he added, the words coming out with a salacious purr that Mycroft didn't miss.

"Gregory-" Mycroft began, exasperation clouding his voice but, before he could get another word out, the line went dead.

Mycroft sat there for a few moments in silence, staring at the phone he held in his hand, his mind whirling before he pressed the "talk" button and closed it, putting set it down on the table beside the love seat.

He was both intrigued and annoyed at the same time: intrigued because he heard the purring in Lestrade's voice that he used when he shared private moments with him and annoyed because he had thought that he was at work.

Mycroft sat there for some time, wrestling with himself and the conflicting emotions but intrigue eventually won out and he quickly sat up, walking quickly taking long strides toward the staircase that led to the upstairs bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest.

_I wonder what he's up to?_ He rounded the corner that led to their bedroom and stopped dead in the doorway at the sight that met his eye.

Gregory lay there, his leg up in the air, the comforter strategically placed so that it covered some parts but left other places open to the air. He saw that he didn't have a stitch on to grace his body, that he was, in fact, gloriously nude.

Gregory smiled at him. Mycroft could only stare as he tried to catch his breath.

"Happy Christmas, My," he said sensuously, his eyes sparkling with mingled amusement and lust, inviting his partner to come and enjoy his 'Christmas' gift.

Mycroft was frozen to the spot stood there for some time, unable to do anything except stare at the Detective Inspector's delicious body, his eyes following a red ribbon tied with a bow over his chest, around his right leg and tied underneath his knee. His mouth worked but no words emerged, Gregory's mouth twitching at the corners in amusement.

"Cat got your tongue, My?" He chuckled at his own joke, enjoying Mycroft's reaction to his '_gift_' with delighted relish. He _was_ an impish rogue at heart and did enjoy needling Mycroft every now and then; the man very rarely laughed and needed a reminder that life _could_ be enjoyable, and work wasn't _everything_.

"I-I-" Mycroft said hoarsely, cursing himself for the undisguised lust present in his voice, clearing his throat repeatedly. Gregory merely grinned at him, roguishly tossing aside the comforter, running his tongue over his lips until they were glistening in the dim light of the bedroom.

"Oh...my..." Mycroft swallowed hard as he took a step forward into the room, Gregory watching his every move with amusement. "Gregory...I-"

"Shh," he ordered, as he sat up and reached out, reaching up and wrapping his fingers around Mycroft's tie and pulling him forward until he tumbled on to the bed. Gregory lay back on the bed and pulled the other to lie beside him.

Mycroft's breath hitched. "Yes... yes, of course..." He took another breath and was at last able to talk a little more coherently than he had been before, clearing his throat repeatedly, his eyes taking in Gregory's appreciable charms.

Gregory leaned over, gently nibbling on Mycroft's earlobe.

"Happy Christmas, My," he whispered once again, his hands slowly roaming over Mycroft's shirt and undoing the buttons one by one.

"H-Happy Chris-Christmas? But- it's not... _Christmas_, Gregory... It-It's..."

Gregory leaned forward cutting off Mycroft in mid-sentence, moving his mouth against his lover's with abandon with Mycroft soon following suit.

"I know," he whispered back, his fingers tracing soft patterns against Mycroft's skin, his lips nibbling his with growing passion and lust. "I just wanted to give you another gift that you would enjoy." He grinned. "Unwrap me, My..."

Mycroft didn't waste another moment, unwrapping his "Christmas" gift with relish, undoing the ribbons with lingering slowness, caressing and teasing Gregory until he trembled with mingled need and desire, his eyes glittering. Once he was done, he dug his hands into Gregory's hair and kissed him passionately as they fell on the mattress together.

_It was,_ he thought later as they lay sated in each others arms and Mycroft traced lazy patterns on Gregory's slick flesh as he hummed in contentment, _going to be a very good year._

**~Fin~**


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